


where do you go when you go quiet?

by blessed_image (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Ron Weasley, Black Hermione Granger, Crushes, Feelings Realization, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Indian Harry Potter, M/M, POV Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley-centric, This Is STUPID, UHHGSUJASD idk what this is the prompt i used wasnt easy, ambiguous - Freeform, i wrote him that way but its ambiguous here, not relevant but factual, thats it the end, this is legit just about ron realising hes a little gay for draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/blessed_image
Summary: He felt it deep. A fire burning and scorching and charring, lava running through the bottoms of his belly; smoke rising up his throat and choking him so delicately he felt like crying.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	where do you go when you go quiet?

Jokes were funny, or, at least, they’re meant to be. A joke is something shared between strangers, or friends, or lovers, or family- all an option, context plays its game and softly pulls a memory of a situation in the horizon to the forefront. A joke is meant to be _good_.

Ron thinks a big, cosmic, fucked-up joke is being played on him; yet it lacks all the fundamental factors of a _joke_. It was cruel, unkind, and decidedly _not good_. This was not nice; this memory would not be smiled upon- a plague that has seated itself inside his mind, laughing his misfortune without an ounce of pity to be spared. 

_Because he thought Draco Malfoy looked good._

Draco Malfoy: well known rival of Harry Potter, his best friend. Draco Malfoy: infamous son of the _somehow_ more infamous Lucius Malfoy, who is not as smart as to hide his appreciation for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or to keep his prejudices unspoken. Draco Malfoy: the biggest prat Ron has ever known, instant joy-killer with his obnoxious everything. So, why on Earth, did he find him so intriguing? The two of them were essentially born enemies, the men in their blood let themselves boil over into long-distance hatred that would occasionally meet them in the middle with glares or shaming words- Ron can already feel the disappointed frowns pointed at him, especially from his father who wouldn’t even listen to constructive criticism against the Malfoys- nevermind a full-blown panicky compliment. Maybe, it was just that, though. Perhaps, it was how equally out of arms reach yet close enough to touch that the boy was. It _had_ to be _just_ that.

And then the days had rolled over since the first realisation of his intrigue, bleak morning stripped bare and cold nights died at first sunlight, and he had saw him again- because he was unavoidable, he was everywhere and anywhere and it was almost as if he had been stalking Ron, even when Draco was at The Manor or he himself was at The Burrow- or, more, it felt like it because he was all that he had been thinking about for a whole year now. Hermione had to suspect something, his nerves had been on edge constantly and his eyes would always roam to the Slytherins during class or break or dinner or breakfast; his staring was non-stop even without him being consciously aware of it. She was smart like that. Excuses could be used for Harry or Fred or George or Ginny, not that he denied their own suspicions- but this was _Hermione_. He was surprised at how unsurprised he was when she asked him what was wrong, why was he so preoccupied? He wasn’t too sure, for now. He was figuring it out, he told her each time, and he knew it did nothing but increase her speculations.

He saw Malfoy again, and again, and again, and again; but he never really got sick of it. He was more annoyed with himself, even as the Slytherin sneered at him on the daily, and it had begun to be more of an expected thing for Ron to feel a stronger sense of endearment towards him. 

“I don’t get it.” He whispered one day to Hermione, the two of them sat besides a sleeping Harry- who had been so exhausted lately that he could hardly keep his eyes open at any time- and she looked at him. He met her eyes, and saw the realisation in them that he was finally opening up to her. Ron looked back at Harry, as he explained why he had been so odd lately; without dropping names, or mentioning any details such as house or class, and he refused to watch as a frown graced her face. “It’s dumb, I know.”

It was silent for a moment, and Ron felt a little stupid that he had even opened his mouth. A hand met his.

“It’s not dumb.” She paused in thought. “Have you ever thought that…maybe, you feel some type of way towards this person, Ron?” And he pursed his lips at the insinuation that he could ever-

Oh. 

He felt it then, or more he had always felt it but only was too stubborn to realise it. He felt it deep. A fire burning and scorching and charring, lava running through the bottoms of his belly; smoke rising up his throat and choking him so delicately he felt like crying. 

_He had a crush on Draco Malfoy._

**Author's Note:**

> arguably one of my worst works but I honestly dont know what else to do with this YHIUFDSJHBD


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